


heretic pride

by TheSpaceCoyote



Series: Kylux Omegaverse Week [7]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst with a Happy Ending, Armitage Hux Has Issues, Body Image, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Force Visions, I suppose thats the word for it?, Insecurity, Internalized Omegaphobia, Jealousy, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Kylo Ren Needs a Hug, M/M, Minor Violence, Nesting, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Armitage Hux, Omega Kylo Ren, Pining, Pre-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Build, lots of feelings, mentioned mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 23:34:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21567598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpaceCoyote/pseuds/TheSpaceCoyote
Summary: General Hux is an omega struggling against the stain of stereotypes that come with his biology, as well as the nature of his promotion.Kylo Ren is an omega hidden beneath the mask and musk and might of an alpha, trying to put behind the man he once was.Neither particularly care for one another. But deep-set instinct, and a common denominator of trauma and insecurity, may end up bringing them together in ways they could've never anticipated.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren
Series: Kylux Omegaverse Week [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1385503
Comments: 23
Kudos: 225
Collections: Kylux Omegaverse Week





	heretic pride

**Author's Note:**

> Finally, my extremely belated final entry for the Kylux Omegaverse Week is here! Much thanks to [StarkillersBae](https://twitter.com/StarKillersBae) on Twitter, who has been ridiculously patient as I finish up my end of the collab. Once I have permission, I will link their art to this fic!
> 
> This first came about because I really wanted to explore the mindsets behind omega!Hux and omega!Kylo and how they might find common ground together. Then, this fic exploded into a monster. I'm not sure about the quality at this point, but with TRoS looming on the horizon, I wanted to be sure I posted it. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Finally landing his fighter in the hangar of the _Finalizer_ after such a long, exhausting mission eased Kylo’s troubled mind a fraction less than he might have preferred. 

He was exhausted. Snoke had ordered him and his knights to Zakuul, a far-off Outer Rim planet, so far-off that it teetered on the edge of Wild Space. Ostensibly, in search of some ancient artifacts meant to buttress the First Order’s developing military might in anticipation of its first strike against the New Republic, but Kylo knew his Master always had an underlying motive when he personally sent him into the breach. 

This time, however, as he docked his fighter, mind still reeling from weeks of slogging through mud and slaughtering local fauna, Kylo struggled to unravel Snoke’s purpose. While it was important to build up the Order’s forces in any way possible if they were to crush their enemies into dust, a squadron of specialty troopers, or just his knights on their own, could’ve completed the extraction. They’d recovered the artifacts but apart from the material reward Kylo felt little enriched by his time on Zakuul. Perhaps Snoke pushed him through thick, muddy swamps and entangling vines to test his endurance and soundness of mind, but Kylo thought he’d proven that several times in previous excursions. If this was a valued part of his training, then its function still eluded him, even as he had the time to properly reflect upon it. 

The _Finalizer_ was a world away from the sopping earth and swampy thickets Kylo had slogged through for the past few weeks. Clean floors, clean walls, the entire pristine ship populated only by stuffy officers and disciplined troopers with no need to worry whether something sinister might leap from the shadows and strike them down before they even realized what was happening. It was _s_ afe, arguably, but nonetheless, Kylo remained on edge. The suddenness of the change made adjusting to this familiar but monotonous lifestyle aboard the ship a little more difficult. At least the visor of his mask helped to shield his eyes from the stark blueish lighting of the hangar, and his heavy steps and indifferent whirl of tattered, blood-streaked robes were enough to prompt the flight technicians to perform any maintenance his ship might need in his absence without further question. 

There weren’t too many ships filing in and out of the hangar, and even fewer people tending to them. It was late in the cycle, apparently. Kylo knew that was another thing he’d have to get used to. The minutiae of time had almost lost all meaning on Zakuul, with only the distinction between the type of predators active during the night versus the day signifying much to Kylo. 

With his ship properly taken care of Kylo exited the hangar, inhaling the sterile air of the ship through his mask. All officers and menial workers still awake and on shift gave him a wide berth, the collective, alpha scent of his knights coupled with the lingering reek of Zakuul keeping all inquiries at bay. Beneath his intimidating appearance and smell, however, he was exhausted. The technician that knocked over a cart of plasma munitions right in front of him was lucky he didn’t have the energy to break his neck. 

His quarters were quiet when he entered them. Dark, immersive. Kylo didn’t bother to command the lights on as he swept across the main room. He’d walked this same path thousands of times, he could do it by memory now. 

Usually, Kylo would meditate after a mission, especially one as long as daunting as the one he’d just completed. The entire time on Zakuul he’d had to remain alert and tensely on his toes, lest he meet his end down the gullet of some marsh-dwelling beast. He probably needed to refresh and resettle his mind. 

But right now, all Kylo wanted was a shower and a long, hopefully dreamless night’s rest. For now, physical needs outweigh mental ones. 

So after depositing his helmet in its customary nest of ashes, Kylo headed off to the refresher, deliberately avoiding his reflection in the mirror. He yanked off his boots as the door automatically slid shut behind him, tracking the clean, sleek floor with flakes of dried mud and tattered scraps of unidentifiable vegetation. Each layer of clothing peels away slowly, as if they’re each a piece of him unwilling to be parted from the rest. Like excess layers of skin in sore need of shed. Eventually, his robes and cowl fall around his feet with a _slap_ like damp flaps of butchered flesh hitting the slaughterhouse floor, fabric filthy and still slightly water-logged from his sojourn in the swamps. 

Kylo grimaced as he started on his pants. He got the tight waistband down over the slight roundness in his hips, wrinkling his nose as he found the space between his thighs humid and thick with an unwelcome odor. 

For the first time in weeks, he actually smelled _himself_ —the scent of flowery musk and wet honey. The smell found between an _omega’s_ thighs. The smell of slick slowly drying against skin. 

Vile. Disconcerting. He always rushed through this part. 

Kylo rarely suffered heats anymore—his Master would not allow it—but occasionally amongst his all-alpha knights his body would react, especially when they huddled close or protected him in the tide of battle. It never grew to the point where it would overwhelm him and turn him into a mindless, useless whore for more days than he could afford to spend incapacitated, but it _was_ a nuisance. 

Kylo peeled the fabric of his pants away from his thighs, gritting his teeth at how it stuck to his body. Once he got them off, he threw them aside with a little more force than he had the rest of his clothes. The wet garment slapped against the floor, hopefully far away enough that Kylo wouldn’t have to smell his stale scent any longer. Especially not after he stepped into the sonic and rinsed it, as well as the other filth, from his body. 

Finally nude, Kylo stepped towards the sonic on aching feet, eager to finally relax and unwind after such a trying mission, but at the last second he catches sight of his face in the mirror and halts in his tracks. After a moment of hesitation, stomach turning, Kylo took one step closer, then another, his hands eventually finding the rim of his sink as he looked his reflection in its dun, tired eyes. 

Grime stuck around his neck and chin, from where the helmet couldn’t completely shield him in the chaos. Mud had splashed up the side of his face and soaked the tips of his hair into a thick, matted mess. It trailed down his hollowed cheekbones, like stalactites hanging from the mouth of the cave, dripping ends matted in the stubble of hair on his jawline omegas weren’t supposed to have. Considering how many times in the past couple weeks he’d been forced to crawl through the mud or wade through swampy water without a sonic much less a proper shelter, maybe the extent of his filthiness shouldn’t be a surprise. Nevertheless, the sight of his fouled face and body in the mirror took him aback. 

Kylo thought he looked like a beast. Very much like those he’d slaughtered on Zakuul, their corpses mutilated, last gasps of life steaming through the saber wounds in their flesh. Killed so he could assert his dominance, test his strength and willingness to besmirch himself if it meant victory.

Kylo raised his fingers through his face and dragged them through the grime, spreading it out in angled lines and flecks, painting himself like a savage. He even bares his teeth, mouth curling over his needlepoint fangs. Trying to look more like an _alpha._

He wanted to be an alpha. He _had_ to, for the sake of his destiny. 

Snoke bore no scent Kylo could detect and considered the finer details of endotypes irrelevant, beneath him and beneath all skilled wielders of the Force. Kylo knew Snoke wanted him to feel the same, like the long line of heirs to the Dark Side before him, in order to elevate himself above the baser needs of flesh and hormone and attain true, unfettered power. A warrior has no time for vanity and indulgence, after all. A warrior has no time to dally in acting like an omega. A true warrior bore no allegiance to _any_ type, but if Kylo had to choose, the hallmarks of aggression and tenacity he needed to meet his Master’s approval reeked of alpha and alpha alone. 

Kylo’s eyebrows furrowed, the shift in his features revealing the pale color underneath as it cracked some of the filth stuck to his skin. His stomach twitched unpleasantly.  Like the mask, it all had to come off. At the end of the day, he still had to strip down and confront the face beneath all this. The face of an omega—an ugly one, at that. 

Flaked blood and dirt fell into the sink  as Kylo grimaced, thin fangs appearing over his lower lip. He’d tried to kill the omega inside of him for _years_ , yet every time Kylo thought he’d slain him for good he reappeared, like a ghost, a persistent haunt in his face and in his mind. Like poison that never left his veins. 

Despite the best efforts of himself and his Master, there still lingered a foolish longing inside of Kylo for the life he once had. The life of an _omega_. When his dreams weren’t plagued with nightmares of his own potential failings, Kylo found himself enduring an almost equally troubling sight—of a quaint home on a planet so picturesque it made his teeth ache, himself standing with the green-gold grass up to his knees, an alpha with changeable features proudly at his side and often even a child tucked into his arms. 

Kylo scowled as the picture streaked across the forefront of his mind like a too-bright shower of stars, blinding and irksome. It, and all foolish fantasies like it, made him _weak_ , that he knew, and yet he continued to yearn for such things despite his obvious deficiencies should he ever take a mate. They were attachments to a life that would’ve never existed, in any case, no matter whether he’d turned to the Dark Side or not. Omegas were beautiful, slender creatures who drew the eyes of all those fortunate enough to behold them. They gave love freely and were loved in return, elevated and adored, with the prettiest among them sought after by hordes of alphas all desperate to bond and claim such breathtaking individuals for their own. To breed them full of equally breathtaking children, to make them glow with the beauty of mating and motherhood. 

There had been omegas on Chandrila, acquaintances of his mother and emissaries of the New Republic that peppered across the memories of his youth he still retained. Even those who weren’t as breathtaking carried with them an air of warmth and welcome that entranced him, their natural appeal only enhanced with the makeup and lavish clothing they often wore. To him, they’d always looked like pretty, painted dolls, like the ones his mother had never let him own because of how roughly he played with his own toys. 

But Kylo wasn’t like those omegas. Never once had he felt he could walk amongst them. After all, he wasn’t beautiful like they were. He wasn’t rare, and he didn’t deserve to be treasured as the jewel of anyone’s eye. He was too large, overgrown even, with disproportionate features and dark moles speckled across his face and chest. The only feature an alpha would probably find redeemable would be his soft, mismatched lips—but only to shove a cock through. Kylo gnashed his teeth at the thought, a growl building in his throat. He would _never_ let someone defile him like that.

It'd been this way for most of his life. Around the same time of his presentation, he’d shot up in height, enjoying a couple years as an ungainly wretch before finally bulking out. He’d always been big, though. He remembered taunts from when he was younger, whispers about his size at birth from fellow children and adults alike—one of the many unfortunate disadvantages of his _illustrious_ parentage that ended up placing him in an unwanted spotlight. 

Much more had changed since his adolescence but the disconnect between his body and type remained the same, even as he’d cast off Ben and plunged deep into _Kylo,_ even as he’d hid himself from judgemental prying and honed his body and mind into a weapon of the Dark Side. Medication suppressed his heats, and false pheromones cloaked his scent as he built his weak body into something indomitable, but less physical afflictions persisted. Even as he’d stripped away all other attachments, the image of a simple, happy life as an omega plagued his mind, leaving him wide-eyed and trembling with sobs late in the cycle far more often than he’d ever admit to anyone.

 _Weakness, weakness, weakness_ chorused cruel voices in his head as he glares burning holes into the mirror, some sounding too familiar for him to stand. But Kylo knew he didn’t _have_ to be weak. He didn’t have to keep allowing himself to fall victim to the jeers of his past and the limits of his biology. He could rise above it. His _Master_ believed—no, _demanded_ —that he rise above it. And he would. 

He wouldn’t allow himself to regress back into a frail, _worthless_ omega _._

A rush of anger coursed through him and Kylo thought about taking his fist to his reflection until the glass shattered and his knuckles were bloody, but stopped himself. Instead, he clenched his hand and ground it into the porcelain sink, sweat collecting in the dirtied veins of his palm as his nails bite the skin. Instead, he focused all his rage onto the idyllic, unwanted vision and _twisted_ it _,_ deliberately, until it formed a far more palatable picture in his mind. 

Kylo would kill the alpha at his side first, split his head from his body for his audacity, for daring to breed _the_ Jedi Killer. As if he could ever be tamed through such a primitive method. _Hah_. Kylo would burn the quaint little house to the ground in revenge and watch his desolation choke the blue sky with smoke. And finally, he would turn to the child, descend upon it with his saber and— _no_ , he wouldn’t kill the child. 

Best to leave it alive, to let hatred fester in its heart, to breed _more_ darkness throughout the galaxy. 

Kylo shook at the sight, break quickening, drinking in the devastation he could wreak even in fantasy. _Good_. Finally tearing his eyes away from his reflection, Kylo switched settings in the shower and stepped inside. He needed the sensation of cascade of steaming water down his back as opposed to the hum of the sonic, knowing he won’t feel properly cleaned unless it burns a bit on his skin. He stood, head bowed and hands planted on the walls, letting steam rise up all around him as he rinsed his body clean. The drain filled quickly beneath him, choked in a puddle of water and filth that rose up over his feet to swim around his ankles. 

Afterward, Kylo sunk into bed, still completely stripped and naked, and tried to get some well-needed sleep.

* * *

The sleek floor of the bridge hummed beneath Hux’s boots, the gentle vibrations like the pulse of some great creature as it drifts through space. He has always enjoyed the sensation, near imperceptible to anyone less attuned to the ship than he is. It reminds him of all the lives under his command, ready to mobilize on his word, the snap of a finger, even just the disapproving curl of lip. It makes him feel powerful, to have all the might on a hair-trigger whim.

Not that Hux would ever do such a thing, risk the carefully regimented fleet for his own personal glory, especially as they prepare for an all-out declaration of war against the incumbent Republic. But such illusions often serves as necessary tools in keeping him sane. As the solitary omega among the First Order’s top generals, they serve as a critical component of his mental armor, the infrastructure that keeps him sharp and shrewd while ensuring the betas and alphas in his envoy toe the line. He knew, every cycle as he strode behind the workstations of his crew, that even if they didn’t respect his type, the majority respected _him_. At least, the more prudent of them did. 

Unfortunately, there was still the occasional alpha grown too big for his jodhpurs who thought they could push Hux around and muscle in on his authority. Or assumed that he never saw the smirking whispers or lewd gestures when they thought his back was turned and attention focused elsewhere. Hux likes to keep a mental file in his mind, just in case he should find himself without his datapad, and each time he catches one of those usurpers in the act he puts their name under the designation: “To Be Dealt With.”

Yet, Hux also understood why some of these alphas behaved in such a disobedient fashion. He highly doubts any of them are used to serving under a commanding officer that doesn’t come from the most dominant endotype. Considering the lessons of his own upbringing, he couldn’t exactly fault them for believing what they’d been told their entire life, and scoffing at such an affront to the command they consider their birthright. 

After all, usually the omegas who served the Order weren’t prized for much other than their breeding capability. Often, if they were given tasks apart from birthing and child-rearing at all, they were relegated to menial positions or service jobs, completely isolated from the chain of command. Many whispered that Hux had only attained his position through nepotism, through the influence of his father—an insidious but unfortunately pervasive lie that Hux tried to fight on every front, armed with a long list of personal accomplishments, performed with little outside assistance. 

Alas, not even direct reprimands and the threat of reconditioning could bite every pernicious tongue aboard the ship. Especially amongst the elder Imperial alphas, who hadn’t approved of his father all that much in the first place and thus hadn’t even the slightest inclination to show his omega progeny much respect. Hux knew they considered him an upstart whelp at best, and at worst—a silly, misguided breeder with delusions of grandeur who sorely needed to be put in his place by an alpha’s firm hand. 

But Hux refused to spend his prime years gestating and playing nanny to pups that would grow to fill the ranks of officers in his stead. No, _here_ —at the top of the pack, carving out his own destiny and bending unruly alphas to his will—this was where he truly belonged, and he would violently defend his right to power, if need be. If he were to ever take a mate, said mate would have to understand that. 

Preferably, they would be on equal footing with Hux. He didn’t want a sniveling subservient nor a ruthless numskull looking to crack heads instead of enemy codes. Of course it wasn’t _impossible_ to find someone worthy in between, just difficult. There were so many ill-suited partners out there. The unfortunate tendencies of the alpha demographic on the whole made those who did see skill and intelligence first and endotype second all the more prized, in Hux’s estimation. 

He wasn’t in a rush to find a mate. But should a proper suitor fall into his lap, well—Hux won’t put up too much of a fight. 

Just enough so that his chosen alpha knew exactly who he was dealing with. 

Hux decided to take the rest of the first shift in his office, as they’re awaiting the command from the Supreme Leader to exit the orbit around Zakuul, but stops at the sound of a voice and the scent of eager-to-please beta. 

“General Hux, sir.” He turned to see Lieutenant Mitaka striding smartly up at him with his heels clicking in time, eyes bright despite the early hour and data pad held up against his chest. An exemplary soldier as always. If Hux didn’t know better, he’d say his lieutenant could be clipped straight from a propaganda poster.

“Lieutenant.” Hux nodded in way of greeting, getting a whiff of Mitaka’s scent as he did so. Fresh, pleasant, but subdued. He always felt more reassured around betas, with their commonplace scents of soap and straw despite the ship’s clean, inorganic environment. Very easy to stomach, inoffensive. 

“Sir. We’ve received communication that a shuttle from the _Imperator_ is requesting permission to dock.” Mitaka tilted his datapad away from his chest and peered down at the screen. “It appears Admiral Creel is aboard and seeks counsel with you.”

Hux’s eyebrows raised, the name unexpected. It stirred something long-buried in his memory, and he spoke aloud before he could catch himself. 

“Creel? You mean Adley Creel?”

“I—that’s his full name on file,” Mitaka replied with wide eyes, adding in a hesitant voice after a moment, “ _uh_ , how do you know that, sir?”

“Of course I know the name of a man of such esteem,” Hux lied swiftly, knowing Mitaka would accept any answer from a superior without further question. There was no reason any of Hux’s underlings needed to know his knowledge of the admiral ran quite a bit deeper than he implied. 

Hux hadn’t many fond memories of the alphas at the Academy, but Creel had always stuck out thanks to his atypical and welcome disinterest when it came to harassing and tormenting his omega peers. He’d never participated in devilry such as feigned bonding bites and theft of suppressants, or any of the other myriad of terrors Hux had been subjected to despite his own nasty disposition and penchant for revenge. 

He and Creel had never had more than a handful of formal conversations but Hux may have developed a certain _inclination_ towards him in his youth, deciding if he ever had the chance he would try _not_ to kill him. Though thoughts and wants like that meant nothing now to Hux now. As an adult and the Order’s highest-ranked general, he hardly had the time to entertain frivolities, or unnecessarily flatter the egos of any alpha. To do so would be to undermine his own position, his own momentous climb to the top of the pack. 

But, _well_. Hux straightened his posture, adjusting the lapels of his greatcoat before folding his hands back behind him and addressing the waiting Mitaka.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t greet the admiral with a warm, _polite_ welcome. 

* * *

The universe granted Kylo the night of dreamless, uninterrupted sleep that he’d wished for, but when he woke up flat on his back and half-tangled in his sheets he found his mind still troubled. Kylo turned over to lie on his side for a couple minutes in hope the change of position might clear his mind. He stares blankly at the wall of his quarters, blinking methodically. He felt strange in his body, even as he manages to sit up against the headboard, watching his fingers slowly clench and unclench against his palm.

The insecurity from the night before still lingered in the marrow of his bones, his dirtied, snarling visage haunting his mind. Streaks of blood and grime, body more akin to a beast than a man, much less an omega. Kylo scowled, scrubbing at his eyes with his cleaned palms, as if he could erase the unnerving image completely. 

Eager to cover up his bare skin, Kylo slid out of bed. He hadn’t much fresh clothing that would keep his body properly concealed, so he dragged an old set of robes out of the pile in his wardrobe to throw on, those he wore on the mission still encrusted with filth and in need of a launder. There was a can of false pheromones in the refresher that will chase away the faint omega scent clinging to the material. For the time being that will do, until he again runs with his knights and relishes in the odor of his pack. Until he can forget about the woeful reality of his type. 

There were other omegas aboard the _Finalizer_ , though none he cared to interact with. Most were mere specks of dust in comparison to him, insignificant and easy to ignore. Yet _one_ persisted, rising to challenge him at almost every turn, making his necessary presence upon the ship unbearably obnoxious. 

Kylo hated General Hux, though perhaps such a strong choice of word was misleading. True, he didn’t particularly like him, but at the same time, someone like Hux didn’t exactly arouse intense emotions. He was irritating and haughty, always making snide comments countering all of Ren’s propositions, but more like a bothersome insect than a genuine impediment. As most Force-nulls were. 

So maybe Kylo didn’t “hate” Hux. But he also didn’t particularly want to be around him, nor did he have too much of a reason to interact with him outside of formal duties as co-commanders. 

Hux stood just a fraction shorter than Kylo but he was far more slender, with whatever natural omega figure he tried to downplay beneath his uniform nevertheless somewhat accentuated by his cinched belt and flared jodhpurs. Hence the frequent appearance of the boxy greatcoat, which Kylo didn’t understand. If he had a body more in line with what most found acceptable of an omega, he’d show it off a lot more. 

It came across as more than a little ungrateful on Hux’s part. 

Kylo grimaced. Such a rare and perfect form was wasted on a man like Hux, who often disregarded its health and welfare with his terrible sleeping habits and caf addiction. Kylo wasn’t even sure he’d ever actually observed the man eating. If _he_ had Hux’s body, he would treat it like a temple, keep it pristine and prepared for any alpha that might stumble upon its sacred, flourishing grounds. 

Kylo shook his head, trying to banish thoughts about the general and especially his body from his mind. It was uncouth and improper, and besides, he didn’t need to waste his time dwelling on such things because omega or not, Hux should ultimately mean nothing to Kylo. _Being_ an omega should mean nothing to Kylo. The suppressants fed directly into his bloodstream from an implant in his arm and the scent blockers embedded in his helmet rendered any internal symptoms a non-issue, it was only his own personal hang-ups that impeding him, made him envious of sniveling worms like Hux. Kylo could crush him in an instant, strip him of his rank and his life if he so chose. 

As he buckled his belt around his waist a sudden chill seeped in from the dark corners of his mind, and he froze. A voice called to him out of the depths, raspy and methodical, trailing through him like long fingers. 

_Master._ Kylo dipped his head out of formal habit, though Snoke remained an invisible voice inside his head. 

_Convene with General Hux. Debrief him of your findings on Zakuul. I will meet with the both of you soon enough._

Kylo’s mouth dropped into a frown as Snoke’s presence retreated from his mind, as it often did when his Master appeared only fleetingly into his mind and left before he could receive an answer to any of his lingering questions. He wanted to understand what the mission to Zakuul really meant, not waste his time. 

While Kylo wouldn’t dare think to defy his master, if he sought out Hux now he might not be able to stop himself from throttling the prim little omega. The training room, with its endless destructible targets, called to him far more eagerly than the idea of a dull conversation with Hux, so once he donned his helmet he heads off in that direction instead. The columns of light lining the hallway flickered beneath his form as he stormed past them towards Hux’s office, loud and intimidating enough to scare away anyone who might cross his path. 

But suddenly Kylo halted in his tracks, momentum swirling the hem of his robes around his ankles. He took a couple steps back, glancing down the hallway he just passed. Sure enough, General Hux stands in a small vestibule only a couple paces away, slightly off to the side as to allow the occasional group of troopers to march past. But Hux’s presence in a fairly nondescript section of the _Finalizer’s_ grid-like halls wasn’t what made Kylo pause—no, it was the fact that he was accompanied by an alpha he’d never seen before. Usually, that was not something Kylo would blink an eye at, as Hux’s role required him to speak with individuals of all endotypes aboard the ship, but there was something different about this one—something that immediately set his teeth on edge. 

Kylo knew little about the finer details of the ranks in the Order, but the bands on the stranger’s sleeve and the snugly folded collar—as well as faint memories of irritants he’d had to deal with—told him he was some sort of fleet admiral. Of similar importance to Hux, then, which was to say the both of them shouldn’t matter to Kylo. Whatever impromptu conversation they’d decided to strike up probably didn’t demand his input. 

But as Kylo continued to watch them, the hairs on the back of his neck started to bristle. The admiral kept smiling a too-wide smile like he was deliberately trying to display his teeth to show dominance while also keeping nonchalant enough to not be called out on it. Alpha fangs were usually long and thick and rooted deep in the gums and his were no exception. They were crystal white, too, almost inhumanly so, enamel scrubbed clean by the extensive dental work no doubt afforded to him by his position. They even reflected the glow of the hallway paneling. 

Kylo didn’t trust him for a moment. Beneath his mask, he bared his own fangs. They were perhaps not as big as the alpha’s, but from experience, he knew they were far sharper. They could easily pierce the soft flesh of an enemy’s throat in a pinch, the powerful jaw behind them crushing any airway with ease.

But Hux clearly felt quite differently about the admiral, with far less violence. He stood more at ease than he did whenever he and Kylo conversed, with his shoulders relaxed downwards and tension bled out of his jaw. He looked like he’s powdered his skin and combed his hair with a little less product than he usually used too. And when the admiral made a passing, mildly humorous comment, Hux actually smiled. 

Hux’s face was not one worth remembering, yet Kylo found he often studied it whenever they shared the same space. It nagged at the corners of his mind, picking at old memories. This smile-- it reminded Kylo of someone, a ghost from an old life, an acquaintance of his mother or father or uncle he’d met only once, with fire-red hair and that same, beguiling, rare smile. An omega of poise, or standing and beauty. An omega who, like Hux, would be considered superior in all ways to their bulkier, uglier brethren. 

Kylo glowered, storming up to the unbeknownst pair, suddenly determined to put an end to their conversation. 

“Who is this?” Kylo snarled above the clanging of his boots against the floor as he came to a halt, heavy hem of his cloak unfurling around his calves. Both men startled at the interruption, obviously not expecting to be accosted with such coarseness. 

“Ren,” Hux said, face noticeably falling as he turned away from the admiral to address Kylo, “don’t speak so harshly. This is Admiral Creel of the _Imperator_.” He spoke the man’s title with an odd sort of admiration Kylo had never heard from him before, like it actually _meant_ something to him. Then again, Hux had always been like that, with an undue respect for ultimately irrelevant designations. 

Undaunted and refusing to be dismissed so easily, Kylo squared his shoulders and sized up the alpha more thoroughly now that they were standing close together. The barrier of his helmet diminished some of his scenting capabilities, but he didn’t need full access to them in order to get a proper read on this intruder. In any case, the whiffs of odor that _did_ drift up through the breathing apparatus in his mask don’t impress him much, even as an omega. It had the usual musky, too-potent overtones common to an alpha, as if they were marking their territory with each breath and smug smile. Off-putting and overly confident for someone who looked as if he spent more time modeling for propaganda paraphernalia than engaging in any kind of physical training. 

Of course an alpha like this would be interested in an omega like Hux. He seemed just as pompous and self-absorbed, undoubtedly a perfect fit for the supercilious general. In contrast, the admiral probably thought Kylo was some kind of monster, a droid or misshapen humanoid hidden from the public eye lest he offend the sensibilities of those forced to work under him. Why else the robes and the mask? Surely an _omega_ of proper standing and physical charm wouldn’t need to conceal themselves. The admiral hadn’t even spoken to him, and yet Kylo could already hear his voice, the disdain and disinterest he would expect if he dared showed off his ugliness. Kylo didn’t even have to read the admiral’s mind, though he knows he easily could. The temptation to subject him to all kinds of mental tortures roiled in his belly. 

In short—Kylo felt nothing but profound hatred towards him. 

At least he had the decency to look a little intimidated as Kylo loomed over both him and Hux, robes hanging like heavy shadows off his frame as he leans towards the admiral. Beneath his mask, Kylo’s eyes narrowed, scrutinizing every inch of him from the aging crinkles in the corners of his eyes to the slight curl in his blond hair. 

“What’s he doing here?”

“So many questions,” the admiral laughed, more mirth in his eyes than Kylo would expect from a high-ranking officer, “did you arrange an interrogation for me instead of a welcome, General Hux? What have I done to offend you?” He places his hand on his chest in mock insult. 

“I came here of my own accord,” Kylo interrupted, annoyed the admiral had decided to answer his question in lieu of Hux, when he’d _obviously_ directed it towards the general. He turned pointedly away from the meddlesome alpha, squaring his shoulders, trying to box him out of the conversation. 

“Did you invite him? Are there plans in place I haven’t been informed of? Plans you’ve made _without_ the Supreme Leader’s approval?”

“Ren,” Hux cleared his throat, expression stern and annoyed. “Are you merely here to intimidate me and my guest, or is there something you need?”

Yes. There were several things Kylo needed. Getting Hux away from this _alpha_ was the top priority, but he knew he couldn’t say that without looking more like an irrational fool than he already did. And while he could get away with intimidating some of the lesser officers aboard the ship, he couldn’t throttle someone with the rank of admiral without some kind of a scolding from his Master. 

So Kylo spat a short, angry “ _nothing_ ,” knowing his frustration hadn’t a leg to stand on. He hopes his vocoder masks the childish edge to his disappointment. Hux only takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, though Kylo can still see him rolling them in annoyance beneath the lids. 

“Then if you’ll excuse us, Ren, we’ve much catching up to do. Surely the Supreme Leader can answer any of your questions, if you indeed have them.” Hux turns away from him to look back at the alpha, face again melting into fondness. Kylo grind his fist against his thigh, angry breath fogging up the meager space inside of his helmet, making his chest feel tight and humid. 

Of course a desirable omega like Hux basked, practically _came alive_ in the attention of an alpha. If Kylo were to remove his helmet and try the same tactics, he’d be harshly repudiated, made of a fool of for even daring to think any alpha would ever give him a moment of their time. 

Rage and hurt pulsed through Kylo’s muscles, making him feel restless, itching to thrust out his saber and decimate the nearest console, skewer the loudest heart on the angry tip. He turned abruptly away from the pair, Hux’s scoffing burning in his ears, and stomped off. Hurt and anger fueled the clanging echoes of his footsteps as he beat a hasty retreat, head swimming, senses confused. 

Kylo needed to take his mind off this. 

* * *

The training room helped only a little. Even with sparking practice droids lying in pieces around his feet and his lightsaber humming hungrily in his hand, whetted by the casualties of his rage, Kylo still felt unstable—weak. 

With disarray persisting in his mind like shrapnel stuck in an infected wound, Kylo decided to finally try meditating after all. He stowed his saber, leaving the coordinator of the training room to clear away the debris of his session as he retreats to his quarters, to the specialized chamber where he shivers in the silence and settles his helmet in its customary pool of ash. He shed his cloak and let it fall from his shoulders before sitting on the floor and crossing his legs. 

Vader’s own helmet sat on the pedestal before him, a constant reminder, a guiding locus. 

Kylo knew in life he was an alpha—strong both physically and in the Force, virile enough to father twin pups before his betrayal at the hands of his own deceitful master. He yearns for the same respect his grandfather commanded, the same ruthless detachment, the same birthright to dominance over the entire galaxy. Over all other endotypes. A true apex, in every sense of the word.

Kylo swallowed roughly, trying to keep his chin steadily upraised and proud. Vader never needed to be beautiful. He never frittered time away bemoaning his appearance or his lack of a mate, or entertaining foolish fantasies of a life long lost, cast away out of necessity. Kylo was sure he didn’t—a man of such might would have never felt the need. Vader reveled in the power of the Dark Side, and if not for his traitorous children, he would’ve continued to lord his iron grip over the galaxy for generations to come. 

Kylo longed to become like him. 

_Soon_ , he swore. Soon he would be worthy enough to take up such a prodigious mantle and finally bring honor to Vader’s legacy. 

With the image of his grandfather looming emblazoned right at the forefront of his mind Kylo took in a couple quick, ragged breaths with his fists clenched atop his knees, before reigning his disobedient lungs under control. He imagined the ball of air in his chest gradually expanding and contracting like a reborn star struggling to life, and focused on it with all his energy, until his breathing finally started to fall in proper time. Kylo closed his eyes and relaxed his fists, trying to smooth out the tension troubling his thoughts and focus on the energy of the Force flowing in through the open channels in his body

As time crawled by, Kylo managed to sink into a state of calm, awareness diffusing out beyond the limits of his body, of the meditation room, drifting into the sea of the Force that wended and weaved through all things. 

For a moment, his mind remained placid, a pool of interminable depth undisturbed by the petty troubles of the physical realm. Then, abruptly, something within the calm fathoms started to stir, sending a scintillating ripple outwards. Sensation crept on the back of Kylo’s neck, the familiar quiver that came when the Force had decided to enlighten him. 

The fledgling vision sparked, lighting up the far-flung void of Kylo’s expanded mind, glowing as a small flare momentarily before it spread outwards to illuminate the greater picture. He let the Force guide him as his thoughts sketched together the background of flat black walls and a plain dresser and a bed and finally, the outline of a figure standing facing the sliding doorway, eyes sharp and green and hair of fiery copper filling in the void. ****

_It was Hux_.

The shock almost caused Kylo to break his meditation. His visions had shown him a great many things—many magnificent as well as fearful, troubling things—but never had they disturbed him with the presence of someone as inconsequential as Hux. 

The slightly blurred figure of the general turned around in the nondescript bedroom, still in his uniform, still relaxed in that anomalous casual posture Kylo recalled from the hallway. His smile quirked up at something, and for a fanciful moment Kylo thinks he could be smiling at _him_ , before Hux walked away from the bed and he remembered he was nothing more than an outsider looking in. Kylo’s stomach sunk, realizing who Hux was _actually_ looking at with such fondness. 

A sudden rush of anger nearly disrupted Kylo’s attempt at tranquility once the admiral intruded in his vision, an unwelcome ripple sliding into Hux’s personal space as if he’d always belonged there. His hair looked a little less smooth than it had when Kylo had met him, as if he or somebody else had run their fingers back through it a number of times. 

The admiral took Hux’s hand, and Kylo’s heart leaped into his throat and stayed there, throbbing, choking, restricting his breathing even as he tried to keep it calm and maintain his connection with the Force. But heat and jealousy trickled in from the more uncontrollable parts of Kylo’s mind when the admiral lifted Hux’s knuckles to his lips and brushed them in a smirking kiss. Kylo set his teeth on edge, uneven omega fangs grinding. 

He never liked public affection and thankfully found it rare aboard the _Finalizer_ and the other dreadnoughts of the Order where his presence was expected. Couples weren’t necessarily discouraged from mating and producing the next generation of soldiers ripe for the ranks, but usually kept their liaisons to private quarters as not to disturb the regimented atmosphere expected within the fleet. Not often was Kylo forced to witness omegas slimmer and more attractive than him relish in the affection of their doting alphas—but now it was right at the forefront of his mind, inescapable and _maddening_. Presented by the Force itself as something enlightening, carrying a lesson he must learn. 

They looked like they were about to lean in and kiss each other, when Hux suddenly lifted a finger to rest against the admiral’s lips. The expression on the general’s face was indistinct in the vision, but Kylo could sense a flutter of warmth and undeniable passion that made his jaw clench. 

Hux trailed his finger down to the admiral’s chin before moving away, retreating back out of the room and leaving the alpha alone, which didn’t help Kylo’s anger. He was even more irrelevant than Hux was. If Kylo were more foolish, he’d question the intention of the Force in focusing on one singular hindrance of an alpha. 

Kylo’s fists clenched in his lap, struggling to maintain his composure and the integrity of the vision as he watched the admiral stand still, waiting, for a moment, before slowly turning to look towards Hux’s bed. For a moment, Kylo thought he was going to start disrobing, perhaps pose naked for the general and subject him to the entirety of their presumed sexual congress, but to Kylo’s momentary relief the admiral keeps his clothing on. Instead, he rounded around the foot of the bed, peering at something near the far wall that Kylo couldn’t see at first. A sense of foreboding suddenly filled him as the vision drifts over the admiral’s shoulder, giving Kylo a view of what laid squashed between the bed frame and the wall. 

It took Kylo a moment to realize what the small mass of black fabric and clothing was. 

_A nest_.

It surprised him, even though it shouldn’t. While an incredibly personal matter to the individual, it was relatively common knowledge that omegas nest, even outside of heats and pregnancy. Kylo supposed that even someone as haughty and meticulous as Hux must occasionally feel the desire to give in to his instincts. 

But Hux’s nest was small, especially for someone of his height, regardless of his slender build. It almost looked like it’d been built in haste, as if Hux had gathered up the materials, dumped them on the floor, then clumsily tried to burrow inside of it until it took shape around him. Kylo, who hadn’t built a proper nest in years, still knew it looked wrong. 

He furrowed his brow, struggling to understand the ultimate point of this vision. _What was the Force trying to tell him?_ That General Hux couldn’t build a satisfactory nest to save his own life? Was this supposed to ease his frustrations with the other omega, by showing off Hux’s own inferiorities? That didn’t change much. It wasn’t as if Kylo was some sort of champion nest-builder. What kind of validation was he supposed to draw from this?

Kylo watched closely as the admiral pulled out his datapad, aiming it towards the nest. He didn’t realize exactly what he was doing until he heard the telltale snap of a picture taking. Kylo raised his eyebrow. Why do that? Hux’s nest was hardly a masterpiece, hardly anything worth capturing. 

The faint sound of the door opening prompted the admiral to quickly stow his datapad away. Hux reappeared, this time stripped of his uniform and boots and clad only in a slinky black robe that reached his knees. The admiral grinned, reaching out to cup Hux’s face, his other hand sliding to the general’s slender waist. 

_“What were you doing?”_ Hux sounded like he was speaking through a thick film of water, distorting the usual harshness of his words—or perhaps he was merely that relaxed, that casual in the privacy of his bedroom that unconcerned with his guest catching a glimpse of his nude skin. The admiral chuckled, his hand drifting to Hux’s hip, smoothing the wrinkles of his robe flat against the curve. 

_“You keep very neat quarters, Armitage. I’m impressed. Then again, you’ve always been a bit on the fastidious side.”_

_“Mmm. You don’t know how nice it is to find an alpha who has a similar appreciation for cleanliness and order.”_ Hux tilted his head, resting the side of his face more heavily against the admiral’s palm. Fingertips stroke at the loose hair drifting down over his temples. _“I was starting to believe there weren’t many left amongst all the deviants and blowhards.”_

_“Well. I’m glad you found me so worthy,”_ the admiral whispered, trailing his hand down to Hux’s chin, guiding him forward until there was hardly any space left between them. 

Blessedly, the vision faded away before the pair touched lips. But the small mercy did little to ease Kylo’s anger at the sheer pointlessness of it all, however, when the Force finally released him back into his own body. His eyelids flew open, skin around them tight and wet with rage. Usually, he found relaxation and a renewed sense of purpose following a meditation, but right now there was nothing inside him but a storm and the memory of the vision branded into his mind. 

_Why?_ Kylo seethed, exhales harsh and hitched through his parted fangs. Out of all the visions the Force could have shown him—why _that?_

“Why must I suffer the joy of others?” Kylo shouted to the unanswering walls, to his grandfather’s silent mask. He couldn’t believe this. Galling enough that he had to witness Hux and the admiral consorting earlier in intimacy he could never hope to experience, but now they were stalking him back to his meditation chamber, inside his _mind_ , tainting the very Force with their presence. Making him doubt his own destiny.

Nothing made sense lately, his former clarity and purpose now muddied and indistinct as the swampy morass of Zakuul. 

As Kylo questioned the air around him, desperate for answer, all that greeted him was silent mockery. As if summoned by his suffering, his damnable fantasy resurfaced, completely unbidden and unwanted, except now to his horror it was even _worse_. Now _Hux_ replaced his own face. Now it was _Hux_ that occupied that loathsome little house, and he even had that pathetic admiral alpha at his side, and—of _pfaasking_ course—a pup in his arms. Beneath a tunic of red and white his belly even rounded out with yet another child. 

In his mind, Hux smiled that little haunting smile, that happy smile like the omega from his memory that left Kylo feeling so hot, so cold, at the same time. A reedy, upset noise fled from his lips. 

Kylo wished he could kill him, could rip out fantasy-Hux’s throat and shed his blood in front of his mate and child, like he’d killed his own imagined alpha a hundred times before, but for some reason Kylo couldn’t bring himself to raise a hand against Hux. Instead, he clenched his fist tighter in futile rage and slammed his knuckles against the floor to grind the bones together, sound reverberating throughout the stillness of the room as he again screamed—this time inarticulate, _raw_ —in his frustration. 

Kylo didn’t understand any of this nonsense. He’d sought tranquility, reprieve from the recent surge in his inadequacies, yet received nothing from the Force but shattered composure. Like this was some form of punishment for his failure, for his inability to completely kill off the omega inside him, for suffering such petty jealousy for a man that should be beneath him in every conceivable manner.

With even more frustration now coursing through his body, his pitifully ugly and unworthy body Kylo rose violently to his feet, wishing there was someone, some _thing_ within his grasp he could ruin to help him temper his feelings. But there was nothing, so he snarled and grabbed at his hair and _pulsed_ with all his being, emotions concussing the walls and shaking the particles in the air and vibrating into the pedestal so resoundingly that Vader’s helmet rattled towards the edge, almost teetering towards the floor below. 

And for a split second Kylo thoughts turned traitorous—let it fall, let it _shatter_ , let it break and finally free him of the weight of this legacy—before he blinked rapidly and reached out with the Force to keep the shrine steady. He breathed deeply, once, twice, eyes locked with the hollows of Vader’s twisted mask. 

The ashes of his enemies drift up, stirred by his anger, refusing to settle until Kylo stormed out of the room and let the door seal shut behind him. 

* * *

It wasn’t until the start of the following cycle that Kylo drummed up both the composure and the courage to seek out Hux again. He hoped the admiral had taken his leave so they could finally have an uninterrupted conversation together without his bothersome presence. Kylo tried not to get distracted by his internal debate on whether the vision from the previous evening had been a reflection of real events, a premonition, or some kind of metaphor, and instead narrowed his focus on the task at hand. After all, he still needed to follow through with his Master’s order and debrief Hux on the details of his Zakuul mission, though at this point he would prefer just to speak to Snoke directly. 

However, his master had been curiously absent, not even resurfacing to scold him for not convening with Hux straight away as he was instructed. No, he only lingered in the darkest corners of his mind, far beyond where Kylo dared to reach out and summon him. 

The robes from Zakuul had been freshly laundered and returned to him, already covertly soaked in synthetic alpha scent. Kylo felt far more confident when he slipped them on, his omega odor fully concealed save for the bit drifting around his neck, but his helmet would take care in blocking that from any curious noses. The servomotors whirred as they clamped it onto his head, the last piece of the illusion that would, someday soon, become his total reality. 

Kylo headed off to Hux’s office, hoping to catch him in a private setting as opposed to the activity of the bridge. He knew from past experience that the general usually retreated there near the end of the first shift for a quick break. For someone who enjoyed the sound of his own voice so much, he appreciated quiet far more than Kylo expected. Hux didn’t meditate, as far as he knew, but notarizing paperwork and balancing figures seemed to bring him a little peace. 

Beneath his mask, Kylo grimaced. Maybe he needed to try to immerse himself in something just as dull and mindless as Hux’s daily duties. Even with his anger from the previous cycle mostly abated, he found he couldn’t fully relax and forget his troubles. 

_So why are you going to see him?_ His inner rationality needled. Honestly, Kylo just wanted to get it over with. Speak to the general about the artifacts that he and his knights had acquired, alone, then leave and hopefully put the entire mess behind him. 

Kylo didn’t know what he would do if the admiral was still aboard, or _worse_ , if he found him glued to Hux’s side once again. It was difficult enough for Kylo to push aside the memory of his vision, he would prefer not to have it brought back to the forefront of his mind, forcing him to imagine all the lurid acts the two of them probably got up to. 

Kylo would feel a lot better if only he could get confirmation what he saw was only a fling and nothing more. He didn’t want to consider the fact that that might’ve been the start to an actual relationship, because then he wouldn’t be able to bear discussing anything with Hux, even professional matters. 

_Perhaps_ , Kylo fumed as he marched through the halls, Hux and the admiral would bond. Make their own family. Maybe not fit the vision that haunts Kylo—after all, he can’t imagine someone as stringent and duty-bound as Hux ever settling down in such a cloyingly quaint manner—but something similar. Kylo could see Hux working through pregnancy and child-rearing alike, carrying his offspring on his hip as he commanded the destruction of Resistance ships. Even Snoke, who found such relationships distasteful and unnecessary, most likely wouldn’t protest to a union between an admiral and high-ranking general, especially if it were to bear fruit and create future officers for his ranks.

Kylo sneered beneath his helmet, violently shaking his head to banish the thoughts from his mind. He couldn’t be so distracted by such things when he spoke to Hux. He didn’t want to let on what he’d seen. Hux would surely report such an indiscretion to his Master if he found out Kylo had snooped around in his mind at all, even unintentionally. 

Roiling with a storm of fomenting emotions, he stormed towards a turbolift, almost running into a pair of petty officers as they exited, conversing around a datapad. Kylo’s ears pricked as he heard a small chuckle, one of the jumped-up betas pointing with a smile at the screen. 

“What are you two laughing about?” Kylo snapped towards them, still on edge from his troubling thoughts, automatically assuming their mirth was directed at him. Both officers shrunk at his bellow, struggling to keep their composure as Kylo stomped up to them, towering over their pathetic forms. One of them tried and failed to speak, ultimately holding out his datapad in trembling explanation, nearly dropping it preemptively before Kylo caught it in his hand and scanned the screen. 

At first he didn’t realize what he was looking at. The officer had opened up a forwarded message in his inbox and clicked on the linked attachment. Kylo tilted his head at the image of a nondescript bundle of black fabric on the ground, half-squashed up against a wall. He narrowed his eyes at the caption beneath, reading what it said.

_“Starkiller Base - work in progress.”_

After a moment of fervent scanning and rereading, the words sunk in, and it all clicked into place. 

Kylo threw the datapad to the floor and broke it, shattering the image of Hux’s nest, before rounding on the officers with his hand outstretched. Their bodies slammed into the side of the corridor, impact abruptly cutting off their panicked shouts before they collapsed onto the floor. 

A simmering, uncontrollable part of Kylo suddenly wanted to rampage through the entirety of the ship, smashing every bit of evidence of Hux’s humiliation and throttle anyone facilitating its dissemination. Blood pounded in his ears, and he found himself engrossed in the sudden thirst to draw _more_ from the miserable bodies of Hux’s tormentors before he could properly calm back down. 

Kylo could do it. He knew who was responsible for this, his name and rank and ship. Only one person had the opportunity to take such a mocking picture, and Kylo wanted to make him _pay_ , use their life as target practice for his roiling anger, scatter his insides all over the floor of Hux’s ship no matter the repercussions. 

He didn’t even remember the admiral’s name, but he could see his smug face and white-blond hair clearly in his mind’s eye, the way his hand had rested on Hux’s waist, hiding his true intentions behind false tenderness. Kylo could feel the very same hatred he felt when he first encountered him, now redoubled and burning hotter than ever before. 

Kylo’s chest tightened at the thought of the alpha abusing Hux’s trust, all for the sake of some petty revenge—or perhaps just a cruel prank, a relic of a childish grudge. For a moment he’s tempted to claw out with the Force, to seek the presence of the admiral and cut a warpath towards him, to spill his blood upon the pristine floors of the _Finalizer_ for such an injustice. 

But through his anger he thought of Hux, the image of his paltry nest and the cruel caption burning into him alongside his memories of the Force vision. Hux was always so resolute and high-strung, but in an alpha’s world like the Order, even his pride probably couldn’t withstand this kind of injury. Pity seeped into his growing fury, thoughts suddenly shifting from revenge and violence to concern and understanding. 

“ _You_ ,” Kylo rounded on the more conscious of the injured officers, yanking him up by the front of his uniform, “where is General Hux? Is he on the bridge, in the hangar, in a meeting? _Where?_ ”

The officer coughed and sputtered, taking too long to answer and straining Kylo’s patience. But just as he was about to snap his neck with a swift clench of his fingers, the blubbery oaf managed to sputter out:

“N-No sir, no one’s seen him all shift—”

Kylo knocked the officer’s skull back against the wall, suddenly changing his plans. He spun on his heel and charged away from the turbolift and back towards his quarters looking as if he’d lost his mind, suddenly possessed with a desire he knew was ridiculous, _foolish_ —

But so damn fitting that he couldn’t deny it any longer. 

* * *

Kylo wore one of his heavier cloaks draped around his shoulders, in order to conceal the bundle of fabric in his arms from prying eyes as he walked towards Hux’s quarters. He didn’t want to attract more attention than he normally did, but thankfully the sparse officers and menial workers in the halls gave him a wide berth. Before long, he stood in front of the door to the general’s quarters, taking a long, crackling breath through his vocoder before requesting access. 

“Ren?” Hux opened the door, and the first thing that Kylo noticed was that he looked unwell. His cheeks look thinner than yesterday and the bags under his eyes are red and slightly swollen. The customary style of his hair falls in disarray thin strands of red and gold spilling over his creased forehead. “What in the stars are you doing here?”

Kylo tilted his head, the muted light of the interior of Hux’s quarters reflecting in a dull arc off his helmet. 

“Can I come in?” he said, ignoring the general’s question. Hux’s nose wrinkled with displeasure, clearly wanting to know Kylo’s purpose before he let him in. But after a short sigh, he ended up taking a step back and to the side, as if too tired or resigned to try blockading Kylo from his quarters. He notices him trying to stand up straight even as his shoulders sag, making him look water-logged and far smaller than usual. Kylo’s heart pangs, now that he knows why. 

He hoped his offering might lift the general’s spirits, if only a bit, even if Hux wouldn’t understand why he was going out of his way to do it. 

Inside Hux’s quarters it smelled clean, as if the housekeeping droid had just left. Despite being a general with access to far more luxuries and creature comforts than the average officer, his floor plan looks fairly bare, like he hadn’t bothered to add many personal touches apart from a drab throw rug, an expensive-looking caf machine, and his own scent since moving into them. 

“Well? What business do you have with me?” Hux gritted out, already looking like he wanted to eject Kylo from his quarters. He’ll have to make this brief lest he rankle the general even further. 

“I wanted to bring this over,” Kylo started quickly rambling, eager to get out all he wanted to say before either he second-guessed himself or Hux stopped him, “it’s not much, I know, I don’t have many clean enough materials that I could spare, but I thought it’d be better than nothing.”

Beneath the mask Kylo cast his eyes downwards, too anxious to look through his visor at Hux’s face. He clenches his fingers tightly into the bundle of fabric, waiting for the general to take it. He’d grabbed it in his haste, mind still whirling from the sudden rush of sympathy he felt towards Hux, like his injured pride was a fresh wound that needed expedient bandaging. He hoped the pile of robes and thin training undershirts might help to ease the sting left by the admiral.

“What is this?” To Kylo’s surprise, when Hux finally spoke he sounded tight with anger. Kylo looked up from the offered clothing in his arms and found the other omega’s face tense, jaw bulging and eyes wide, boring into Kylo. The unexpected, green-fire intensity almost made him flinch. 

“What do you mean?”

“Are you mocking me?” Hux’s fists clenched at his sides so hard they started to shake. Kylo took an instinctive step back, something he almost never did in the face of any enemy. He’d never seen Hux so angry. 

“What? General, no, I—”

“This is all a massive _joke_ to you alphas, isn’t it?” Hux exploded as he marches towards Kylo, nearly backing him against the wall with a finger levered fearlessly at his mask. Kylo dug his hands into the mound of nesting materials, holding them instinctively against his chest. 

“The very idea that omegas nest is just hilarious, isn’t it? Just another thing for you lot to hold over our heads?” Hux spat, probably well aware challenging Kylo Ren so openly, in his quarters with no one else around and no weapon at hand, was probably the most foolish thing he had done in some time. But he didn’t seem to care—or rather, was probably too angry to.

“Hux, wait, you don’t understand—”

“I misunderstand _nothing!_ ” Hux practically shrieked, spittle collecting on his lower lip as if he’s amidst the foment of one of his speeches. He glared at Ren’s impassive mask, sharpening his eyes and slanting his eyebrows as if maybe he could penetrate through the hardy material and into Ren’s dense skull. 

“It’s not enough for you alphas to humiliate me, to drag my name through the _mud_ , you must continue to twist the knife, eh?” Hux’s face flushed bright red with his anger, bleeding all the way down to his throat and the tips of his ears. “Well, do you know what I say to that? I say to take your sorry rags and _shove_ them up your ass, Ren. I won’t entertain your taunts, nor those of anyone else, for a moment longer.”

Kylo’s mouth opened and closed dumbly, struggling to find the right words. Suddenly, the space inside his helmet felt too small, and his inhales grew short and tight. Hux thought he was an alpha. Perhaps unsurprisingly, considering he masked his omega scent well but—no, Hux couldn’t think he was an alpha, not like this. Not after Kylo had reached out to him, not after the things he had seen, the sting of sympathy he’d felt towards Hux. 

He couldn’t have the only other omega he knew on the ship hate him. 

“Stop,” Kylo croaked, not even expecting Hux to listen to him and indeed, he continued walking away. At least until Kylo dropped the armful of clothes to the ground with a muffled thump and, without thinking it through all the way, grabbed the rim of his helmet and clicks open the servomotors, ripping the entire thing off as soon as they _hiss_ and release. 

The sound of the heavy, scarred shell of the helmet _clunking_ against the floor did grab Hux’s attention, but when he turned around to scold Kylo for making such a commotion the reprimand faltered on his lips as soon as he saw his bare face. Kylo panted, as if he’d just finished a strenuous session in the training room, and tried to hold firm. He could feel his hair unfurling against the back of his neck and around his jawline, his eyes grow warm and slightly damp as he confronted Hux head-on, completely exposed. 

He couldn’t recall the last time he took off the helmet for anybody who wasn’t his Master. Part of him had always wished the gruesome mask _could_ be his real face, instead of the softly misshapen, dewy features so many had rejected. He felt, perhaps, if he left it on for long enough, he would forget what he looked like underneath, what he was trying to hide.

But now, it didn’t matter. Because now, Hux would never forget. 

Kylo stood, expecting rebuke and insult. Hux reeled back slightly, eyes wide and searching his face. His nostrils flared—first only once, then twice again in quick succession, trying to make sense of the new scent in the air. Kylo waited for his expression to morph from one of neutral surprise into disgust, or perhaps he’d circle back around to his previous flare of anger. Furious that Kylo had deceived him all this time. Perhaps he’d even be a bit disappointed Kylo isn’t the alpha he thought he was. Anything, as the quiet between them stretched longer, was possible. 

After a moment, Hux cleared his throat.

“So...then. This...this is the real you?”

 _The real you_. Hux’s words echoed around inside Kylo’s mind as he swallowed around his answer. _Is_ this the real him? After suffering so many fragmentations and reforgings, could he answer with certainty any longer?

“...Yes,” he finally said, the admission and the sound of his voice naked without the feedback of the vocoder severing the last thread of his own denial. Kylo felt it crash around his shoulders, soaking him down to the bone as he waited for Hux’s response. The general still stared at him, disbelief lingering in his eyes even as they soften. 

“Well. This is certainly unexpected,” Hux started, “I wouldn’t...you never _smelled_ like it, until now…”

Kylo’s throat worked, tendons bulging out as his entire body shivered. He felt shrunken, stripped of his helmet and his false perception as an alpha. Now Hux knew. He knew that they were more alike than he’d first thought. 

“I wasn’t trying to mock you. I swear, General.” Kylo knelt on one leg on the floor right next to the pile of nesting material on the ground at Hux’s feet. It’s a gesture of fealty, or submission—odd, because in power and esteem Kylo handily outranked him. 

“But you saw the pictures.” Hux shifted his weight from foot to foot, looking more nervous than ever before. “You must have. They’re all making a joke of me.”

“I did see them. No one should have done that to you,” Kylo murmured, eyebrows raised plaintively. Just recalling the image of the nest, such a private part of an omega’s life, spread callously about the ship, made him feel sick and angry and _sad_. “It’s not for others’ eyes. I understand.”

Hux folded his arms about his chest, throat working around what he wanted to say. 

“Is he still on the ship?” Kylo asked in the silence. 

“No,” Hux answered with a hollow tone, looking to the side. “He left almost immediately after the images began to surface. Before I could catch up with him.”

Kylo growled under his breath. He wished the admiral was still present, so he could wring the life from his body. Though perhaps he would hand him over to Hux, just to see what creative punishments the scorned general had in mind for the traitor. 

For now, Kylo kept his more violent urges at bay. Instead he settled a hand atop the mound of fabric and pushed it closer to Hux’s feet. 

“He’s scum and didn’t deserve you. But I can go, general, if you desire. Make of my offering what you will.” Kylo got up, ready to turn away from Hux and return to his own lonely quarters when something tugged at his cuff. He caught Hux looking at him from out of the corner of his eye, pale fingers gripping onto his sleeve. Kylo realized then that he’d never seen the general without his gloves on before. 

“You...you saw what it looked like. Haven’t a kriffing idea what I’m doing.” Hux worried his lower lip, drawing his teeth back against the chapped skin. “Do you?”

In truth, Kylo didn’t know much. He hadn’t built a proper nest in years, not since he was a child, and what he remembered of them wasn’t particularly impressive. Ben had never been properly taught how to construct one and hardly ever used those he did try to make after outgrowing his mother’s. And at the temple, there hadn’t been much time to indulge in his omega instincts thanks to the demands of the Jedi training. Not that he wouldn’t have done it even if he’d had the spare time. Kylo would’ve never taken such a risk, lest the alpha students found out and mocked him for his frailty.

But here in the privacy of Hux’s quarters there were no alphas. There were no suspicious admirals nor tittering subordinates. There was no Master, at least not in any way Kylo could sense. There was no one to judge or tease them, to spread evidence of their nesting throughout the ranks, to tell them there was anything wrong with what their bodies wanted them to do. The time felt _right_ , like letting natural currents take them instead of constantly fighting to swim upstream. 

Kylo turned back around towards Hux. 

“A little,” he replied, tentative. “I can try to help, if you’d like. We can...we can figure it out together.” 

A part of Kylo wants to remove his own gloves and take Hux’s hand, wind their fingers together and feel his pulse through the skin-on-skin contact. It looks so lonely, hovering out of the darkness around them like the lone star in a system. But Hux pulled back quickly, before Kylo could decide. He folded his arms around his back, keeping to a parade rest though his posture looked far more relaxed than usual. Like it had with the admiral—except Kylo bore no such treacherous and hurtful thoughts towards Hux.

 _Strange_ , that. 

“Let’s get on with it, then. Before I start having any regrets,” Hux grumbled, turning away from Kylo, though he inclined his head in invitation towards a doorway at the other side of the living room. Presumably, where his bedroom lay. 

Kylo scooped up the nesting materials and followed on Hux’s heels, nearly tripping over the hem of his cloak in his haste. Kylo just barely loomed over him by a couple of inches, but it gave him just enough leeway to catch a whiff of the scent drifting off of the genera’s hair. The usual shampoo and pomade, but something _more_. Something that grew stronger the closer they got to the bedroom, to Hux’s innermost sanctum in the entire ship. The same place that other alpha had _defiled_. 

Kylo knew Hux was putting a lot on the line by letting him in like this after such a fresh betrayal. As the bedroom door slid open in front of them, Kylo promised that he wouldn’t give Hux any reason to regret it. He treasured the tenuous confidence the other omega had placed in him. Though he wasn’t exactly known for a gentle touch, he _wouldn’t_ break it. He just wouldn’t. 

Kylo wasn’t like that anymore. 

“You say one word that upsets me, and you’ll be out on your ass. And you will _never_ see the inside of my quarters again, nor myself if I can help it,” Hux says, coming to a halt in the middle of the bedroom before stepping aside. Kylo looks to him for elaboration but Hux looks pointedly away, though he gestures to a space between the wall and the far edge of the bed. Kylo remembered his vision, already knowing what he’ll find stowed away there. 

What remained of Hux’s nest sat like a shabby shadow in the snug crevasse. _Remained_ , because it looked a lot more flattened than Kylo remembered from either his vision or the picture the admiral had taken of it. It looked as if someone had kicked it over, spilling the rumpled blankets out of the main body of the nest out onto the floor. Kylo crouched beside it. This close, he could see what were undoubtedly First Order-regulation boot prints stamped into the black fabric. 

“It’s terrible, I know. Most likely worthy of mockery it’s already inspired throughout the ship,” Hux said sourly, coming up behind Kylo and nudging the edge of the nest with his foot, like Hux needed to check whether it was dead. “I—I may have taken out some of my more irrational feelings out on it.”

Kylo let his mind drift for a split second, envisioning the red-faced general, hair mussed by furious hands, stomping the shabby but ultimately innocent nest in time with his screams. He grit his teeth. If there was any justice left in the galaxy, Hux would someday be able to throttle the alpha who injured him so grievously. 

“So...what should I do? I suppose you’re the expert,” Hux stated, making a gesture and glancing away from the ruined nest. “How do I fix it?”

Kylo wasn’t really an expert. Not in the slightest—he hadn’t made a decent nest in years. Still, he stroked the folds of the trampled fabric absently, imagining what it could become in his mind’s eye. One corner of the blanket twitched as he accidentally let the Force leak out of his control, already eager and thinking well ahead of him. Kylo inhaled, holding breath in his lungs before letting it out. Hux’s scent lingered in the fabric but lightly, in sore need of a refresh. He must not have used it very much when it’d still been intact

Hux rapped his foot against the ground, interrupting Kylo’s thought process.

“Well? Can you fix it?” He rephrased to emphasize Kylo’s role, apparently backing out of any sort of joint-effort already. Kylo glanced up at him, Hux meeting his eyes with an uneasy crease to his brow. He had his arms folded in front of him now, fingers stroking one sleeve. Kylo could sense his anxiety more profoundly now, much like a needle sliding on the film of a balloon. 

“Grab any spare clothing you’ve worn in the past few days,” He mumbled, trying to focus on the task at hand rather than getting distracted by Hux’s overspilling emotions. “Blankets too. Anything that might strongly bear your scent.”

Hux grimaced, a scoffing retort at the tip of his tongue. But after what looked like a moment of contemplation, he turned to flitter about the room, rummaging through the laundry hamper next to his wardrobe. Kylo could hear him mumbling to himself, judging the respective cleanliness of each garment he grabbed. 

Hux swiftly returned with a small bundle of clothes that look comprised mostly of duplicates of his general’s uniform, plus a couple of wrinkled undershirts and other miscellany like handkerchiefs and a few balled-up pairs of socks. Hux set them down neatly on the ground beside Kylo, before stripping a thin blanket off of the bed and shaking it out. 

“Pillows too,” Kylo added quickly, prompting Hux to gather them up against his chest before ambling back to the nest. He opens his arms and lets them tumble to the ground, before placing his hands on his hips.

“...I suppose you should get to it, then?” Hux tilted his head, glancing from Kylo to the nest, then back to Kylo. 

“And what are you going to do?”

“...Observe and supervise?” Hux added with a hopeful smile that made his voice go a little high and strained. Kylo knit his brow with a small sigh.

“Hux...I’m not going to build your nest _for_ you,” he murmured, reaching out to lightly tug on the general’s pants, feeling like a young child trying to draw the attention of a parent to a project they’d finished. “Come on. Sit.”

Despite his insistence Kylo’s heartbeat leaps when Hux actually does sit down beside him. Their thighs brush momentarily together as he settles, but the general quickly crosses his legs with a huff. He hunches inwards over his folded arms, looking as if he’d rather be anywhere else but with that picture circulating the entire ship, he’s stuck. 

“I suppose I _should_ be a little more hands-on. Make sure you don’t do anything I dislike.”

Hux’s rigid posture suggested uncertainty, even as he obviously tries to play it off as mere exasperation, so Kylo decided to make the first move. He sat up slightly on his knees, grasping for the pieces of clothing that had spilled out of Hux’s nest in his furious rush to destroy it. Carefully, he reshaped the borders of the nest, folding the fabric in and creating a little ridge around the soft hollow in the middle as if he were making some kind of pastry. Though Kylo hadn’t constructed a proper nest in years, relying on only his robes and cowl to bring him comfort, the building instinct comes easy. He remembered, a couple of times, when Ben would wake with an empty room and a brain full of horrors, and tug his blankets and plush to the wardrobe and fold himself within his scent. 

“We should add more of your things,” Kylo mumbled, trying to pull himself away from those memories and focus at the task at hand. “It’s not gonna be _my_ nest, after all.” Hux worried his lip, tentatively picking up one of his wrinkled uniforms and straightening it out between both hands. 

“I...I suppose I just...put this here?” Hux awkwardly placed the tunic over the hollow in the nest, as if laying a shroud over a corpse in stiff ceremony. 

“That’s a start.” Kylo sagely decided not to criticize Hux’s choice in placement, instead grabbing two of the pillows and, upon feeling how stiff and angular they are, wrapping them up in one of his old robes. He settled them gingerly at the far end of the nest, where Hux’s head would lay. 

“You want it to support you correctly,” Kylo pointed out, plumping up the body of the nest. Hux had such a rigid posture it looked like he might snap at any moment—proper bedding might help loosen that out. 

As they continue to add more and more pieces to the nest, Hux still seemed nervous, his jaw tense and movements stiff and semi-robotic. For every garment Kylo placed—with thought and deliberation—Hux stuck his own items anywhere just to get them off his hands, as if their touch might burn a brand of shame into skin if he held on to them for too long. Like growing too attached to the nest might permanently and _visibly_ mark him as an omega in others’ eyes. Kylo could sense irritation radiating off Hux, which quickly built to a head when he tried to move a carelessly tossed handkerchief into the belly of the nest proper, causing the general to snap. 

“This is _stupid_ ,” Hux snarled, balling up a worn tank top in his fist and throwing it into the pile. It bounced off the side and unfurled into a sad crumple. “I’m wasting my damn time constructing this—this thing. I’ve better things to do than sit around playing house!”

“Hux,” Kylo said with unusual patience, daring to rest his hand atop the other omega’s. “Don’t think too hard about it. Just do what feels right.” He took a deep breath, trying to influence Hux to do the same. “Trust your instincts.”

Hux snorted. “ _Instincts._ Fat lot of good they’ve ever done for me.”

“Is everything you do always so clearly planned out in your head beforehand?” Kylo whispered, guiding Hux’s hand. “Can you really tell me you’ve never had to take a leap of faith, or go with your gut feeling while trying to turn the tide of battle or broker negotiations in your favor? Let go, Hux. I know you can.” Kylo lowered his voice even more, feeling it waver as his own emotions claw up from his stomach. He kept them down, for now. 

Hux’s wrist remained tense in his grasp. After a long moment, it relaxed, and Hux’s eyes drifted to meet Kylo’s.

“It’s difficult.”

“I know.”

Hux sighed. “You realize, I’m not used to us having something in _common_.”

He wasn’t incorrect. Kylo had never felt much kinship with Hux, even though he knew about their shared type from the moment he’d met him, but as they sat hunched on the floor of the general’s quarters and pieced together a nest, he felt a fresh sort of understanding springing up between them. Of course, he didn’t know if Hux felt exactly the same or that he’d even acknowledge it if he did, but the emotions radiating off of him weren’t wholly negative as Kylo released his hand, allowing Hux to move it on his own. He picked up the wadded top he’d thrown into the pile, flattening it back out in his hands.

“The left flank is lacking a bit,” Hux stated as he draped the garment over that side of the nest, giving it a small pat. Kylo smiled softly, and though Hux didn’t match his expression, he felt a pulse of pride coming from the other omega. 

Slowly, Hux started to gain more confidence in his technique, self-consciousness ebbing away as he layers more clothing around the boundaries of the nest, forming a slight egg shape. Differing shades of black mingled together, the glossy, tightly-knit fabric of Hux’s clothes intertwining with Kylo’s coarse, warmly tinted robes. 

Eventually, Hux started to take on an even more active role in the nest’s construction, to the point where Kylo allowed him to determine where each new piece of material would sit. He sensed Hux’s instincts flourish with the Force, happy he was finally listening to the needs of his mind and body. Quite the change from before. Hux even stripped off his own uniform and rubbed his face against the collar, openly scenting the fabric before tamping it down in the caved center. As Kylo buffered the squat walls with another one of his woven tunics, Hux sat back against his heels, eyebrows worried together as he examined the nest. He tapped his chin. 

“It needs something.”

“You think so?” Kylo pursed his lips around a hum, glancing at the nest so far and considering the materials they had left. There wasn’t too much, just a thin black sheet from Hux’s bed and a couple scattered pieces of clothing, mostly socks and kerchiefs that wouldn’t have much use. But the sheet they could incorporate as an additional blanket, or tuck into the nest’s preexisting folds, or—

“How about we make a canopy? Like those you see on exotic holodramas,” Hux suggested out of nowhere. “Not that I watch those kinds of things. But it might suit this whole endeavor.” He pulled at the corner of the sheet and looked to Kylo with a raised brow and a shy blush, as if seeking confirmation it wasn’t a silly idea. 

Kylo grinned. On the contrary, he thought it was perfect. 

“One canopy, coming up.”

* * *

Despite his initial misgivings, Hux found that he actually enjoyed constructing his new nest. As he helped Ren pin up the sheet, creating a little roofing between the edge of the bed and the wall, he felt pieces of himself long thought lost or buried gradually slot back into place, much like forgotten machinery given new life. For once he didn’t dissect every one of his actions, gave up on browbeating himself for every perceived flaw, and just trusted in whatever felt right. 

Remarkable, that constructing this nest with Ren, filling it with their shared clothing and mingling scents, felt like that. _Right_. It took him a bit by surprise, now that he reflected upon it. Hux had never heard of omegas constructing nests together, he’d always assumed it to be a bit of a solitary venture when he even deigned to think about it. And he had thought Ren to be an _alpha_ up until only an hour ago, cut from the same cloth as those who mocked and undermined him. But no, Ren was an omega, like him, and they were building a nest together, and it felt so right Hux almost didn’t even know what to do with himself other than continue to patch pieces of clothing together into a new whole. 

Once they finish attaching the canopy to the wall with spare tack, Hux looked the nest over, absorbing the entire picture. To his surprise it appeared— _cozy?_ Hux couldn’t remember the last time he ever described something like that. Nothing aboard the _Finalizer_ was cozy, it wasn’t meant to be. Efficiency and practicality were his primary goals as a general, even in his personal life. Little indulgences were kept sparse. A nest was a silly thing he didn’t need.

Yet here it sat, rebuilt from its demolished state by his and Ren’s hands, and it looked welcoming and cozy, and he really wanted to curl up inside of it and take a nap, even if he felt foolish for his desire. He already felt foolish thanks to the events of the current cycle—he reasoned he could use a spot of indulgent comfort until he recovered his dignity. 

Kylo sensed Hux’s hesitation, so he decided to crawl inside the nest first and hope the other omega followed his lead. Careful not to disturb the canopy draped above it, he managed to fit his large body through the entrance without disturbing it or knocking anything loose. He turned onto his side before lying down, making sure to leave enough room for Hux to curl in beside him if he wanted to.

Kylo hoped he wanted to, after all the effort they’d put into making this. 

“You look ridiculous,” Hux murmured from outside of the nest, head and body silhouetted by the bedroom lights. And true, Kylo might look odd with his bulky frame snuggled up like a child, but with the soft fabric cradling his body and their mingled scents filtering into his nose, it’s hard to care too much about appearances. 

“Aren’t you going to join me?” Kylo asked softly, circling his finger through the material beside him in invitation. It was one of the general’s uniforms, and still felt a bit starchy to the touch. Kylo felt sure it would soften in time, if the nest saw more use.

Hux visibly hesitated, shoulders riding up to his ears. For a brief moment Kylo worried he was actually going to refuse and maybe even kick him out of his quarters to boot, but then Hux ducked his head and clawed his way through the entrance of the nest, momentarily blotting out the light of the bedroom outside. A hand blindly brushed up against Kylo’s thigh as Hux sought a place to settle, before quickly retracting and leaving tingles of gooseflesh in its wake. 

Hux soon lay on his side in the nest, propped up on one elbow. He kept his body stiff, unsure, as he looked down upon where Kylo stretched out beside him. The hem of his black shirt rolled up a bit, exposing a sliver of his muscled belly. Hux stuck out his lower lip, glancing anywhere else.

“You realize, if anyone saw us like this, that it would be the end of both of our reputations,” Hux scoffed, pressing his knees together. “The Order’s enforcer and its top general, _cuddled_ together like a pair of abandoned loth-kittens.” He stretched his arm out, laying his head atop his bicep and finally putting himself on the same level as the other omega in the nest. 

“If anyone intrudes, I’ll carve their heart out of their chest and give it to you,” Kylo promised, feeling an itch in his fingers, for once not from the desire to commit the gruesome violence he spoke of. No As Kylo glanced across the remaining space between them, breathing their scent deep in his lungs, he found that he—he wanted to hold Hux?

Hold. _Hux_. 

Kylo didn’t bother to ask, still too fearful of rejection, even within the comfort of Hux’s— _their_ —nest. He half-expected Hux to shove him away or wound him with venomous insults when he breached the only space between them and wrapped his arms around his waist, but Kylo felt nothing change apart from Hux’s body stiffening slightly in his embrace. 

He knew it was all wrong. An omega’s nest should be reserved only for his future mate and pups, with all others shut out. Yet here he lay curled up into Hux, another _omega_ , a stiff and severe piece that shouldn’t fit with Kylo at all. 

And yet it hummed in perfect harmony with his needs—with his instincts. 

Kylo dug the tip of his nose into Hux’s chest, drawing deep, gratifying breaths into his lungs. The omega’s scent flutters happily inside him, settling there. Kylo wove their legs together, feeling the prickle of hair on Hux's calves as he slid his arms around his slender waist, at first holding only loosely before clinging tighter. 

Hux was right. If anyone were to see him like this, his fearsome reputation would fall into shambles. Nobody would tremble before the might of Kylo Ren any longer.

But nobody had to ever know what he and Hux are sharing. Kylo wasn’t kidding when he said he’d tear out the heart of anyone who dared to intrude. This—this was _theirs_. Nobody else needed to understand, nor even know what they’ve made together. 

Kylo sniffled, wishing he could burrow in between Hux’s ribs, wrap himself up in the other omega’s surprising warmth and comfort and never leave. The entire nest smelled like home. 

Ridiculous. Kylo didn’t have a home anymore. Chandrila, the temple, his quarters aboard the ship, any of the dozens of planets he’d visited—never had he felt that he truly belonged anywhere. Never had he ever felt safe. 

Not until right now, in the makeshift nest he’d built with the man who was supposed to be his enemy, no matter who or what he pretended to be. 

Kylo could feel the contours in Hux’s breastbone through the fabric of his top. As he held him close he marveled at how slim Hux’s waist really was, how different it felt from his own thickly muscled abdomen, but for once he doesn’t feel the usual envy he does for omegas more petite and pretty than him. Because it felt like Hux was _his_ , now, and more importantly—that he was Hux’s. Kylo pressed his lips against the topography of Hux’s ribs, feeling his heartbeat, breathing in his rhythm. He remembered the child he once was, how someone had held him against their breast and managed to quell even the darkest troubles in his mind, to convince him everything would be alright, all with the simple rhythm of their heartbeat. 

Together he and Hux intertwined their bodies in the soft cradle of the nest, finding new fit against one another neither of them ever imagined could be. Neither of their scents was as overwhelming, as aggressive as that of an alpha, but they each found they didn’t particularly miss it. Instead of feeling smothered and heady both general and knight relaxed, as if an invisible hand had lit lightly sweetened candles all around the room. 

Hux cautiously petted Ren’s shoulders, still a little unsure what to do about the unexpected cuddling. He sniffed, out of lack of an idea for anything else. It smelled a little musty in the nest, probably due to Kylo’s contributions. It reminded Hux a bit of the scent he used to think belonged to Ren, the alpha odors that always set his teeth on edge, but there was something underscoring it now. Instead of arousing anger, it kept him calm. After a moment of inhaling curious breaths, Hux realized it must be Ren’s _true_ scent, one of faint sweet florals and soil freshly turned from the earth, as if he’d spent most of his life running free in the wilderness rather than cooped up inside the hull of a star destroyer. Hux drew the naked scent into his nose, marveling at its delicacy. 

It reminded Hux of something. _Rain_ , the constant tattoo that haunted most of his faintest memories. Always rain. But something more, suddenly. Warmth. Slender fingers curling over small ones he knew were his own. Hair that smelled pleasantly, that he wanted to burrow his nose into it and go to sleep. 

Such pleasant things, and _Ren_ had called them to mind. Ren, who he knew very little. Who Hux was cuddling as if he were his mate rather than a rival for Snoke’s regard. Whose heartbeat Hux could hear in the air around them. Ren. _Ren_.

Ren.

After a long moment of breathing in that scent and listening to that heart Hux relented and wrapped his arms around Ren fully, shame gone. He felt the other omega’s muscles flex in instinct at the touch, before relaxing beneath it. Hux was surprised at how fragile Ren felt, despite his bulk, and at the way he shook and pressed his face even more firmly against Hux’s chest. 

He was a strange omega. As Hux hugged Ren close, he couldn’t help but feel a bit of an urge to pick apart and analyze him, to understand exactly how the warrior Kylo Ren could’ve been hiding such a hopeless, sensitive boy all this time—but later, later. Perhaps for now Hux could just lie here and _feel_ , hold Ren and curl his fingers in his hair and croon gently to him as their scents settled permanently in the folds of the blankets and clothing around them. 

Ren’s breath hitched against his chest, his fingers digging more tightly into the thin fabric of Hux’s top as his arms squeezed tightly around him. In the past Hux might’ve mocked Ren for showing such weakness when he was supposed to be the Supreme Leader’s fearsome apprentice, but in the comfort of the nest he couldn’t muster an ounce of his usual cruelty.

“It’s alright, Ren,” Hux whispered instead, soft words forming an alien weight in his mouth. Yet it felt right to speak them aloud, to allow for vulnerability. Something had changed, between him and Ren, and it was enthralling. Hux didn't want to push it away—feeling that if he did, he might lose it forever. Never had he felt the urge to nurture anyone or anything, but Ren’s naked innocence cried out for protection. 

In Hux’s arms, Kylo dozed, letting his mind drift, carried on the wings of sweet, soothing scent. Eventually, he relaxed enough that the heralding shimmers of a vision seep back towards him—but he found, when it coalesced into clarity, that it wasn’t of the quaint, archetypal little cottage he’d imagined in the past, but of a large, glistening palace that soared into a firmament of twilight. Inside its grand, ornate walls he sees himself standing with another figure, with indistinct features slowly firming through the glow of the light through the stained glass windows into the sharp eyes and pursed, pink lips of Hux. A golden circlet rested above his forehead, and Kylo could suddenly feel the weight of one of his own nestled in his unruly hair. A new weight, too, swelled at his middle, and as he looked down he found his belly rounding prominently out against his dark robes, sharp abdominals now softened in a fertile bow. His hands traced over his new shape, half in surprise, half in wonder. Kylo looked up, eyes shining with unshed hope. Before him, Hux was draped in white, and when he turned he too was carrying a child, both within his womb and in his arms. Hux said something indistinct, and held out the bundle to him. As Kylo peered down, trembling, into the blankets of pale blue, their baby yawned its sweet little yawn and turned to look at him, eyes as dark as Kylo’s and hair as bright as Hux’s. 

Kylo didn’t even question the improbability of it, as the vision brightened and grew more lavish, more attainable, leaving a new warmth branded in his heart. He only pressed closer, rubbing his spilling tears into the general’s chest. 

“You think so freely without that mask,” Hux murmured, tracing his fingers through Kylo’s hair as the omega’s vision seeped into his mind as well, so earnest and soft it surprised him. He would’ve never imagined such a gentle picture could come from a man he thought to be nothing more than a vicious mongrel. Hux himself usually had little time for such lofty, impossible dreams, but as Kylo held him close and _yearned_ so openly, he let this one flourish and grow inside of him until it was all he desired as well. 

They lay together, gradually relaxing as their scents and minds mingled in unforeseen harmony. Both knowing far too well that, even as they embraced one another, the nest couldn’t protect them from everything lying in wait beyond its boundaries—not from the fateful paths they’ve set upon, not from the whims of capricious alphas, not from the machinations of forces far removed from their control—but within the soft cradle of blankets and clothes and a wonderful dream shared between two omegas, everything, including the future, felt at ease. 

**Author's Note:**

> I would really love to know if you guys liked this fic. A comment or some feedback would mean a lot to me!
> 
> And thank you so much for reading! 
> 
> Hit me up on [Tumblr](http://thethespacecoyote.tumblr.com) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/heir_of_breath7/).


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